


Just Once

by eleuther



Series: Healing [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Roger Taylor (Queen) Needs a Hug, he gets one, its only implied - Freeform, so much love at the end, they talk about it a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 12:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19393918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eleuther/pseuds/eleuther
Summary: Roger is tired of the boys nagging him to go home. He wishes he'd stood his ground.





	Just Once

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! Back with more self-projecting, because I have no self-control. It's a never-ending cycle, my friends.
> 
> This could be seen as a part of my series, 'Dear Friends.' I didn't have that intention when I was writing it so I won't be including it in the actual series. Feel free to read said series, however! 
> 
> This doesn't get *too* detailed, but there is some talk of child abuse in the beginning, and there is a serious conversation towards the end of the story. There are no graphic details of anything, so I'm not going to include any serious warnings in the endnotes. Please let me know if I missed anything in the tags! Stay safe y'all, don't read anything that'll hurt you.
> 
> Enjoy the story loves!

Roger took his time walking back to the flat. Gazing through windows, hiding in corners in coffee shops; anything to keep from getting back to the boys. He didn’t want to answer any questions yet. 

Where Brian, John, and Freddie went to their parents' homes every other weekend, Roger tended to stay home. He’d claim he was working, or that he had some song he was writing that he wanted to get done, or even that his parents were on an extended vacation. That one had kept him from Brian’s suspicious glare for nearly two months. 

None of these had worked this time. He listened to the boys and went home for the weekend; just this once, then they’d get off his back. His mother and sister would be happy to see him and maybe he could keep calm enough and stay out of his father's way. 

He’d never been very good at that. 

_Just once, you coward. Stop home just this once._

Yeah, look where that had gotten him. Face and stomach black and blue. He’d fought back at first, but he thought of the band and hoped that maybe if he stopped fighting and begged enough his dad would focus on the easier places to cover up. It worked, too, for a moment. Roger was sure he had done something in the split second they met each other's eyes’ to make his father lash out onto his face. 

So here he was; Sunday evening, walking through London, hunched over with his hood up and hoping not to draw any attention to himself. It was already well past the time he said he’d be home but he really didn’t want to see anyone yet. He didn’t want to face the guilt he was sure would be on their faces when they learned of the real reason he avoided going home. If he waited long enough, Freddie would be out at some club or party, and John and Brian would be in bed resting before their classes tomorrow. 

Fool-proof, if you asked him. He wasn’t counting on them all being out right now, however. 

Roger met Brian’s eyes through the admittedly small crowd and immediately turned to cross the street. He booked it across, horns blaring angrily at him, and made his way back towards the train station. There was no way he could go back to their flat now. 

He’d seen the way Brian’s expression turned from curious to horrified; the bruises really weren’t subtle. He’d watched as the guitarist nudged Freddie’s arm and pointed. God, this was a fucking nightmare. He had to get out of there, go somewhere else. He had just enough cash, maybe he could get a hotel room for the night. He’d go back tomorrow when Brian and John were at their classes and Freddie at work and get some more clothes. He had to leave. They couldn’t know. 

_They don’t have to._

Roger halted in his tracks, earning some unhappy looks from those around him. He wanted to smack himself for being so stupid. He got into enough fights, they’d understand. Maybe not happy with the situation, but nothing had to change. He laughed lightly and shook his head, before turning and making his way back towards their flat. 

*

“Where the hell have you been?” 

Brian didn’t swear often; in fact, he rarely got angry outside of the studio. But Roger had taken his time getting home, and then he’d run when they saw him on the street. Freddie started after him, but John said that he’d get home eventually. At least they knew he hadn’t skipped town. 

For months, ever since they all moved in together, they’d wondered why Roger never went home. There was always an excuse, a reason why he couldn’t that weekend. He rarely talked to or about his parents, his sister only coming up often enough to know that he was proud of what she’s been accomplishing. They figured that maybe he didn’t have a great relationship with them. It wasn’t until they’d gotten home that Brian thought there may be something bigger going on. 

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense, and the more guilt he felt for making Roger go in the first place. But Brian couldn’t keep the worry masked as anger down when he walked through the door. 

“Got jumped. Must have pissed somebody off on the train,” he replied, then smirked. “You should see the other guys, though.” 

“Jumped, huh? That why you ran when we saw you? And I know that was you so don’t try to play it off!”

Brian wanted to yell some more, but John grabbed his arm. The youngest tended to act as the mature one, especially in these situations.

Roger shrugged. “Knew you wouldn’t be happy about it. You’re always saying I shouldn’t get into so many fights.” 

Brian sighed and shook his head. He didn’t believe him, and he could tell the others didn’t either. 

“Roger, seriously. What happened?” John asked. 

“I just bloody told you what happened! I got jumped on my way home. It’s not my fault if you don’t believe me.” The blonde was getting angrier by the second, and they knew they should leave him for a bit and try again. At the same time, they just wanted some answers, real ones, but Roger wasn’t cooperating. 

“Those aren’t fresh, there's no blood for the cuts. Those are at least a day old, Rog, just tell us the truth.” 

“I bloody well am, you’re the ones who aren’t listening! I’m not gonna stand here and get called a liar.” 

“Rog, please, you can tell us -” 

Brian was cut off by the drummer turning on his heal and stomping to their shared room. They could hear the lock click, and Brian sighed, resigning himself to the couch for the night. 

“That went well,” he muttered. 

“You both were just too worked up. We all knew he wasn’t going to talk that easily, dear,” Freddie said. It was the first word he had said all night and at first, Brian thought he’d wanted to stay out of it, but the look on his face said otherwise. 

“What do you know, Fred?” he asked.

“Nothing, darling. I just have the same suspicions as you.” 

The three of them looked at each other; the fallout of this was not going to be good. 

*

Roger woke up with a pounding headache. The events of the previous night washed over him and he suddenly wished he could go back in time and never go home in the first place. He’d known exactly what he was walking into, but he’d let the guilt trip his bandmates were throwing in his face get to him. He should have just taken their aggravation and ignored their begging. It would be better than this. 

He looked at the clock on the nightstand and wanted to cry when he realized it was only seven in the morning. His first class wasn’t until eleven, and it was still too early for the others to have left. And now he had to pee. With a sigh, he stood up. He wasn’t prepared for the reflection he saw in the mirror. 

His face was still bruised, though they’d started to green a bit. His eyes were red and underneath the bruising his face was botchy; he hadn’t even realized he’d been crying. His hair was a mess and he could smell the body odor radiating off of him. He pulled his shirt up to look at his stomach and saw the bruises were still fairly dark and, suddenly, much more painful. 

Roger jumped with a bang on the door. He was almost ready to climb out the window before he realized it was just Brian. He felt guilt wash over him when he realized he’d forced the guitarist to sleep on the couch. 

He opened the door to reveal a sleep-deprived Brian. The taller man raised an eyebrow at the bruising; it certainly looked worse in the daylight. Roger dutifully stepped out of the way and watched him dig through his dresser. 

“The bathrooms free, Rog. Deacy already left and Freddie isn’t up yet, though he will be soon. I suggest showering now before he holds it up for the rest of the morning,” Brian said. There was a slight tremor in his voice, and he couldn’t tell if it was from the back pain he was surely feeling or the argument the night before. Rogers guilt deepened. 

The blonde nodded and muttered out a “thanks.” Before he could leave the room, Brian called out again. 

“Yeah?” he replied. 

“We are going to actually talk later when everyone gets home.” He gave the shorter man a pointed look, but Roger didn’t have the energy to argue at the moment. He’d figure out a more concrete excuse throughout the day, one that would get them off his back for good. Or a while, at least. 

*

The day seemed to move both too fast and too slow for the drummer. He wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and stay there for at least a day, but he knew he would need to have the dreaded conversation with his bandmates first. Roger couldn’t think of a decent excuse to give, either. 

His final lecture ended at three and he debated hiding in the library - because really, they’d never think to look here - but knew that would just make everything worse. Freddie was working for another couple of hours anyway; he could “fall asleep” and hope they would leave it for another time.

Yes, he was aware of how ridiculous he sounded and no, he did not care. 

The walk back to their flat went by too quickly for his liking. He was both surprised and frustrated to see everyone’s coats and keys on the hook by the door. He took his time getting to the living room. 

Roger met Freddie’s eyes first. “I thought you had to work for another few hours.” 

“I called in sick. We needed to have this talk as soon as possible.”

“We can’t afford -” he started. 

“We can’t afford to lose you, darling,” Freddie interrupted and Roger felt the guilt renew inside him. 

Freddie patted the spot next to him on the couch and he slowly sank into it. The frontman placed his hand on the small of his back and rubbed it occasionally; Roger felt himself relax minutely. 

The four sat in silence, likely waiting for him to start but like hell that was happening. The drummer continued to stare at the wall behind Brian and John. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” John asked. 

“Tell you what?” 

“Oh, you know what,” Brian began. “You let us sit here and tell you for months to go visit your parents and you gave us a million and one excuses on why you can’t. You get nervous from the topic and then yesterday you come home with bruises littering your face and stomach.” 

His eyes widened at that and he immediately sunk into himself more, hand wrapping around his stomach.

“I didn’t know you’d seen them.” His voice cracked and he hoped more than ever that they wouldn’t say anything. The only acknowledgment was Freddie’s hand tightening on his back. 

“Your shirt was still ridden up when I walked into the room this morning.” Brian’s face went from angry to a mix of guilt and something softer. “Why didn’t you say something?” 

“I didn’t - it’s…” Roger sighed. “I’ve never told anyone. We always kept it a secret, obviously, so that nothing would happen to us. It’s a bit embarrassing anyway. Whose dad beats them for leaving a dish in the sink or not closing the door all the way.” He let out a small chuckle, but the tension in the room remained. He had yet to look up from his lap, twisting his rings around his fingers. No one said anything for a moment and the drummer was suddenly faced with the fear that they hated them for this. 

It wasn’t his fault and he knew that, really, but the silence was eating away at him and he knew how some people felt about this kind of abuse; ‘they're your parents, you should listen to them’ ‘you probably said or did something wrong.’ 

_You probably did something to deserve it._

He knew he had a tendency to lash out for stupid reasons. 

When he finally looked up Brian was looking at his lap. John was staring at him, face completely blank. Freddie’s hand was still on his back but it had stopped the comforting movements. Roger was about to get up and leave himself when Freddie pulled him into his lap, arms wrapping tightly around his frame. The blonde immediately relaxed into his hold and gripped his arm tightly, head leaning onto his chest. If nothing else he had this, even for a moment. 

“Get that look off your face, darling, this doesn’t change anything between us. We’re still your best friends and we’ll always be here for you.” 

He felt the left-over tension leave his shoulders; hearing that was all he needed, really. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if they felt he deserved it.

“Roger,” John said. It was the first time he’d spoken since this conversation started. “Have you ever thought about going to the police?” 

The blonde huffed; “Of course I have. But we never had enough evidence growing up and even if we had my mum would never go against him. It was only me, anyway. I would have fought a little harder if Clare or my mum were getting hit, too.” He had always known the police weren’t really an option. 

“And you don’t want to go now?” 

“Nope.” That was the last thing he wanted, actually. 

“Look… I don’t plan on ever seeing or speaking to my dad again. And if that means I never see Clare or mum again, so be it. If that bothers you all then I’m sorry, but -”

“No!” Brian’s head shot up and he looked mortified at the words coming out of Rogers' mouth. For a moment, he thought his best friend would make him go. “I don’t ever want to hear you apologize for this. If anything, we should be. We nagged you for so long, made you go this weekend and - god if you hadn’t gone…” 

The guitarist looked on the verge of tears but Roger was having none of it. He reached out to him and pulled him down next to the singer, John following soon after, which was how they ended up in an extremely uncomfortable pile on the couch. 

“Rog, we’ll never make you go again. I’m - we’re sorry that we forced you to go,” Brian said. 

Roger just shrugged, feeling tired now that they were all together. It had been a long day, and he really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. 

“You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t know, none of you did, and that’s on me. Now, can we please stop talking about this and sleep? I’m exhausted.” 

He felt Freddie laugh a little underneath him, though it sounded like he was having trouble stifling it. How they managed to fall into a pit of laughter, he’ll never know, but it seemed to tire them all out even more. 

They’d all feel it in the morning, but the thought of moving from the couch was unappealing as ever to the four of them. 

Roger just hoped he wouldn’t have to pee anytime soon.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave comments and kudos I need validation !!!


End file.
